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DON'T CRY FOR THE HORSES

Dont cry for the horses that life has set free
A million white horses forever to be
Dont cry for the horses now in Gods hand
As they dance and they prance in heavenly band

They were ours as gift but never to keep
As they close their eyes forever to sleep
Their spirits unbound on silver wings they fly
A million white horses against the blue sky
Look up into heaven youll see them above
The horses we lost the horses we loved

Manes and fails are flowing they gallop through time
They were never ours they were never mine
Dont cry for the horses
Theyll be back someday
When our time is over
They will show us the way

Do you hear that soft nicker?
Close to your ear?
Dont cry for the horses
Love the once that are here

ONE ART

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.

von: Elizabeth Bishop
I CARRY YOUR HEART

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

von: Edward Estlin Cummings



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